a n t o n y m
by tears over beers
Summary: That's just the way it works; she's a good person and he's not. Simple, really.


A/N: Someone doesn't own Harry Potter.

Antonin Dolohov/Nymphadora Tonkslupinthousandothernames, if you hadn't gathered that much already.

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><p>It's pathetic, he knows, but he can't help himself.<p>

She's been brought in on her own- a stake out, from what he's heard, outside Malfoy Manor. It had involved two others, apparently, but Antonin doesn't bother with remembering their names; from what he's heard, they didn't last long anyway. She, on the other hand, put up a fight. Maybe that's why she's in the basement instead of being killed on the spot, although he has a sneaking suspicion that the real reason is that Bellatrix wanted to literally _torture _her to death. See the light leave her eyes and all that sadistic shit. Even for a Death Eater, that one was a psycho.

He's just lucky that he was here on The Dark Lord's order tonight. He'd been standing in the shadows when she'd been taken through, kicking and screaming, swearing her head off and he'd be lying if he said he didn't love the sight of her. Sick, maybe, but then again, he's a friggen' Death Eater, what would you expect?

He's always thought that this house was too big; he's never lived in a mansion and it's creeping him out. He's looking over his shoulder every five seconds- Salazar knows if anyone catches him he'll be skinned alive. Only for her, he thinks. Only for her.

Antonin knows he's at even more of a risk, considering he's got _her _wand too but he manages to slip by the guard at the basement door without question. It's stupid, he knows, but the simple sight of her makes his heart skip.

She's finally finished screaming and cursing her family to damnation and now she's just _quiet_. There she is, sitting against one of the posts and it's awful. She's bleeding heavily but that's not what he notices; all of the colour has gone from her and he hates it. The colour, the vibrancy, oh that was what he had looked for through the bars in Azkaban every single day. It was what had first drawn him to her even though it was so fucking _wrong_.

The way she talked hadn't helped, either. The way she had greeted everyone so politely; the way she had greeted _him_ so politely, like he was _somebody_.

"Wotcher, Mr Dolohov."

She's so _different _from the others. Not cold or callous, not like the rest. Not like him himself. Oh yes, he was her opposite; cold-hearted, dark and callous.

Now she's in the basement, alone and that's all gone. The colour, the vibrancy, _everything_. Her hair is horribly mousey-brown and it's awful.

She finally looks up when he scuffs his foot on the ground and the sound echoes through the small dungeon. She sees him and for a split second her eyes flicker with hope, with joy. It's gone in an instant and it takes a piece of him with it. This is wrong and oh, he knows it.

He approaches until he's a few feet from her.

"Get up."

He realises, too late it seems, that it sounds like more a threat than a way out. Of course, she doesn't move, save to tilt her head ever so slightly to glare at him. She's scared, he can tell but he knows she'll never show it; she's stubborn and that's just one of the things he can add to the list of things he likes about her but probably shouldn't. In fact, scrap 'probably'; things he _knows_ he shouldn't.

He'd say he loves those things but truth be told he doesn't know what love is. It's arguable that he doesn't even have a _heart_. All he knows is that there's something about her that makes him feel different. All he knows is that he _wants_ her a little bit more than he's wanted anyone else in his life, even if her blood is tainted. Even if she's a shifter and her Dad's a _fucking mudblood_.

"Get up, _please._"

That defiance turns into a flicker of interest now and it only intensifies when he actually holds out his hand to her. It takes her a moment of hesitation but she finally takes it and he pulls her to her feet. She sways slightly but manages to stay upright. Add the complete lack of balance to the list.

"Here" he grunts, thrusting her wand at her.

She bites her lip as she reaches out to take it. Add that to the list, too.

"Why-" she begins but he heads her off before she can ask. Partly because he wants this over quickly so he can go back to being a bad person but mainly because he doesn't even know himself.

"Go, now. The guard outside is young and stupid; I know you will be able to take him down easily. There will be no noise if you approach from behind. Narcissa and Lucius are out and Bellatrix is occupied, do not worry about her. Unless you run into Draco you should be okay. Once you are outside this cell, run and apparate as soon as you can. You can not delay or Bellatrix will become wise. Go."

He steps aside but she continues to stare at him.

"But why-"

"Just go."

She studies him for a moment and their eyes meet for the briefest second- sparkling grey and ice blue- before walking swiftly towards the door. She reaches for the handle but pauses and in a second she has turned back around. It takes her only the briefest of moments to run back towards him and place a kiss on his cheek- fleeting though it may be, it will be something he'll never forget, something that makes him _want _her more- and he waits only briefly after she's gone before walking outside, over the body of the stunned man lying on the ground and continuing back into the drawing room to play innocent and wait for the scene before him to unfold.

He's sees her again but three times after that.

The first she's flying before him, dodging Merlin knows how many curses and trying to avoid her godforsaken Aunt and Uncle. He sees the kid _gripping_ her waist and her can't help but feel a little jealous, even though he knows she's already married so much worse than just a Blood Traitor.

It's something in Rodolphus' eyes that makes him act; Rodolphus fires the curse towards her and she narrowly dodges; one more like that and she's gone. All Antonin can think though is _"She's mine"_

He doesn't know what sparks the sudden possession- maybe it's her new marriage to the _scum_ or maybe it's the fact he's been _wanting _her every day for the past however many years and he's reached his limit- whatever it is, it forces him to send the curse at Rodolphus. He falls (doesn't die, _un_fortunately) but it's enough to let her escape and nobody's ever any the wiser.

The second is almost a year late in that last battle. He's hunted the man down and he will _fucking kill him_.

Maybe it's the whole fucking irony of it all. She never loved the _Death Eater_ but she goes for the next worst thing; the _werewolf_.

Maybe it's because she's just had his fucking child and it's _horrible _because every time he closes his eyes he sees him _touching_ her. Scum of the Earth half-breed he is, you're on the same page really- only difference is you don't _pretend_ to be a good person and flit around with the blood traitors, the mudbloods. You've never claimed to be a good person but oh, he does.

Maybe it's because he's had e-fucking-nough of this and he just wants to _hurt _somebody again.

And maybe, just maybe, he wanted the half-breed to kill _him_, just so that she sees that _he_ could be a murderer, too.

She hurdles in, out of nowhere and stand beside _him_. Oh yes, he'd been planning to kill Lupin anyway but this just makes him _want_ to all the more. And so he does.

It works quite well, actually. Lupin's momentarily distracted by her and then with a flick of Antonin's wand he's down.

Time freezes right then. Her eyes bulge and they fill with tears; this startles him, even though it shouldn't. By now, though, Antonin's used to feeling things he shouldn't.

Nymphadora takes her gaze away from her dead husband and looks Antonin in the eye and, for the second and last time, sparkling grey meet ice blue.

"_Why_...?"

It's the look on her face- the _disappointment_- that makes him run. He's never claimed to be nice, to be a good man but she had thought he was anyway, tried to find _something_ there that wasn't. She had thought he was different and he'd proved her wrong.

The third she's lifeless and he knows that Bellatrix has finally taken her. He was rendered unconscious by that pathetic elf _thing_ and now he's being marched through the castle. With a glance he sees her. He notices her straight away; it's the colour that draws him to her. Even in death, the colour is evident.

It doesn't matter how much he tries, he can't get the last look she gave him, that _disappointment_ on her face from his mind. Maybe it's to do with the Dementors but it's helping to kill him.

He wishes he could say that he would see her beyond the grave but he knows that when he goes, he'll go to hell, if there is such a thing and she'll have gone up to the angels.

That's just the way it works; she's a good person and he's not.

Simple, really.

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><p>AN: So, that was interesting.

This was a response by a challenge set by eccentric aristocrat a.k.a Veronika that was on her profile. The challenge was, if you hadn't guessed by now, to write a DoloTonks oneshot. I have to say, I accepted it because I though it would be a) interesting and b) I like a challenge and it was both. Not saying that I'm going to jump aboard this ship or anything but I did quite enjoy writing this.

Yes, I know Dolohov was rather OOC. That was kind of the point. I couldn't have made this with him in character as we know him.

Okay, so this could have been written and uploaded a few days ago but I totally sodded off to watch Pirates of the Caribbean 4 and then just left it. So basically, yeah, this is a little later than I intended because I chose watching Johnny Depp prance around in a pirate costume over writing this. If I'm honest, I think that's a good excuse.

So. Um. Yeah. I always find ending these notes slightly awkward. Thanks for reading if you made it this far and that's about it, really. Au revoir, chaio, auf wiedersehe, adios, zai jian, goodbye.

(That's Cherrle trying to be universal and failing)


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